


A Line in the Sand

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: Outside Edge [32]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, Ice Skating, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 22:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13017405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: Just because Sebastian is Kurt's boyfriend now doesn't mean that, sometimes, he's not a huge jerk.





	A Line in the Sand

“So you enter the rotation here …” Kurt says, demonstrating the entry to the jump one step at a time “… then you take off on your toe pick here …” He turns, ending with his foot behind him, the rake of his blade stuck into the ice “… and push off …” He hops in a circle - a bare-bones hint of the jump he’s attempting to teach. He hears a slow clap from off in the distance, but with the crowd of people surrounding him, he can’t tell where it’s coming from. He pivots to look at his student, Mindy, who’s definitely not clapping. She’s too confused, standing behind him with her arms crossed over her puffy, hot pink vest. Her bright red curls, gathered in a high ponytail, bounce back and forth as she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, Coach Hummel,” she says. “You make it look so easy, but I’m still having trouble following along.”

“No problem, no problem.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black Sharpie. Every coach on the ice carries one for just such an occasion. “Let me outline it for you.” He bends at the waist, retracing his steps with the point of his pen. With dashes and curves, he draws the steps to perform the jump on the surface of the ice. “Here. Does that make it a little easier to picture?” he asks, returning to her side.

“A bit,” she admits, approaching the markings. “I’ll give it a shot.” Mindy goes to the beginning of the dashed line and gets into position with arms out. She follows the lines carefully, tracing them with her own blades – first glide, then three-turn, then pivot. But when she arrives at the ‘x’ where she is supposed to plant her toe pick, she loses momentum and stumbles to a stop. “Sorry, coach! Sorry!” she says, swiveling back into start position. “I don’t know why that part always sneaks up on me!”

“It’s because you’re anticipating it,” Kurt says, looking at the carves and divots Mindy’s blade made in the ice beside his marks, and isolating where her skate started to stutter. “Let’s take it to the glass.” With a wave, Kurt leads Mindy away from their spot on the center ice, separated from public skate by a ring of neon green cones, to the sidelines. He peeks up past a throng of recreational skaters, zeroing in on the panel of windows where he plans to map out Mindy’s jump. But as Kurt gets closer, he notices something already written on it … which is odd because the windows had been cleaned before session not thirteen minutes ago, and as far as Kurt knew no one else had been giving lessons there.

But there it was – a crudely drawn face with jagged teeth, pointy elf ears, a tongue sticking out, and the words, “Ask me about my sit spin!” along with a fake phone number written in a bubble by its side.

Mindy sees it and bursts out laughing. “Oh my God!” She snorts. “Coach Hummel! I think that’s supposed to be you!”

“What the …?” Kurt mumbles, taking a second look. At first glance, it’s just a face, but after a closer look – from the swooped bangs to the upturned nose and his sharper than average chin – it very well could be a drawing of him. “Mature,” he groans, scratching out the picture with his Sharpie. It’s drawn on the opposite side of the glass, so he can’t erase it, but at least he can keep people on the ice from seeing it. “Real mature.”

Kurt should have known something was amiss. He’d heard an odd clattering, a chortle, and the stampeding of blades running in the vicinity of the wall as they approached, but he couldn’t see anything, so he’d paid it no mind. It’s Friday, after school, and the rink is busy, fuller than safe on one end with beginner skaters, mostly young men playing the fool and falling on their asses for laughs. He knows he pissed off a few of them at the start of session by telling them to grow up and stay in their lane when they tried to snatch his green cones, but he didn’t anticipate being targeted by anyone.

“Who do you think did it?” Mindy asks, regaining her composure out of respect for her coach.

“I’m not sure,” Kurt says, throwing a look over his shoulder at the men on the other end of the rink. “But let’s forget about it and continue.” Kurt puts five drawings up on the glass, illustrating everything he’d said before: “You enter the rotation here … then you launch from here … and land roughly around here. Does that make sense?”

Mindy looks at Kurt’s drawings, shadowing the movements in place. “Yeah … yeah, I think so!”

“Great! Let’s go back to the center and give it another …” The second Kurt turns, he sees them. How in the world did he not notice someone doing _this_? It may be busy, and he may be purposefully ignoring the majority of the skaters there, but a person coming up to him and kneeling at his feet – _that_ he should have felt. But apparently he didn’t, which is why there is a trail of black dashes, like the ones he had drawn for Mindy, traveling from his own blade all the way back to the center ice.

“Who do you think is doing this?” Mindy asks, intrigued (but also way too amused) by their mysterious graffiti artist.

“I don’t know …” Kurt peeks through his lashes at the current of skaters in front of them “… _but I can take a guess_.” Kurt knows very few people who carry a black Sharpie with them, but even so, there’s only one type of Sharpie that writes as well on ice as the one he uses – and every coach has one.

He can’t see center ice with the massive amount of people suddenly crowding in front of them, taking their sweet time as they pass, pointing and laughing at the ground. Kurt can only imagine what is there now in place of the markings he left.

As it turns out, everything he imagined was _wrong_.

He figured it would be another face, this one more childish than the first – him with massive acne, or vomiting, or farting, or something along those lines.

But the person leaving the pictures hit a bit below the belt this time.

They left a drawing of a penis, complete with grotesque hairy balls, and the words _Kurt Hummel was here_.

“What the---? No! No, no, no, no!” Kurt scratches out the picture, scraping his blade across the ice (to the detriment of his right inside edge), but it’s too late. The entire rink had a chance to see.

And after Kurt’s little freak-out, he realizes they now all know who _Kurt Hummel_ is.

Kurt scans the rink for a familiar red coach’s coat and its owner. He finds him by the rink door, doubled over with his hands wrapped around his waist, unable to contain his laughter.

“Smythe!” Kurt yells, barreling across the ice as fast as his blades can carry him. Sebastian spots him, his lips pursing into an ‘o’ of surprise when he sees exactly how fast his boyfriend is traveling, and goes running. “Sebastian Smythe! Get your butt back here! Your Sharpie privileges have just been _revoked_! And I’m canceling your five o’clock!”

“Worth it!” Sebastian calls before he ducks into the safety of the other rink. “Totally worth it!”


End file.
